by Murray, Lee
“Just stop, Bastion,” says Prastion. He’s staring at me in surprise. A look of puzzled admiration crosses his face.
“Yes, please do stop, Bastion,” I say, poking my tongue out at him. “I can see why we Tellurians feuded with the Cherienne pod: turns out some of them are arseholes.”
Bastion flushes and storms out of the room. He has a long stride and his shoulders nearly skim the narrow doorframe.
Prastion rolls his eyes and turns back to me. “We may have something in common after all,” he says.
“What? Annoying family members?”
“No,” he says. “That most people underestimate us. I find it comes in handy.” He salutes me as he exits after his cousin.
13
That night I hear the tell-tale signs of someone sneaking downstairs.
Creak, creak, squeak.
The floorboard symphony is a dead giveaway. My clock tells me it’s after midnight. What’s going on?
I rise silently and edge out of my room. I tail the shadow ahead of me, trying to make out who it is. From the height of him, it must be either Prastion or his idiot mate Bastion, but he’s too far ahead for me to be sure. The person makes it to the bottom of the stairs and turns left to the kitchen. Perhaps he needs a drink of water?
I tiptoe after him and make it to the corner as the stranger passes the kitchen door and continues towards my uncle’s study. It’s Prastion, I’m sure of it.
He pushes open the door, cringing as it sticks, and enters. I quicken my pace until I’m outside the study too. I can hear him in there, opening drawers in the desk, pulling out books from the bookshelf and trying the handles on my uncle’s locked cabinets. What is he doing?
Only one way to find out. I push open the door and switch on the light.
“What do you think you’re up to, Prast…”
Bastion looks shocked by my sudden entry but composes his face quickly. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and track pants.
“Hello, Thala, we meet again.”
I’d spent an uncomfortable evening being forced to chat to the boys over dinner and games to follow, with the adults pretending not to listen. Anna had made me wear a dress and required me to grow my hair out for the evening. It had already reached my shoulders and I compulsively swiped it from my eyes. Although we’d talked, I felt no closer to learning what the boys had been on about earlier in the day. Obviously, this trip was about more than a potential breeding partner.
“And how lovely to see you again, Bastion, but it’s past your bedtime,” I say.
Bastion smirks. “You’re funny, Thala, and you’re smart. I don’t have a whole lot of time to muck around, so I’m not going to bother trying to fool you with excuses. There’s some important information held in this office that I need, and I will get it despite what you or your overbearing relation might think, so you might as well go back to bed and get your beauty sleep. As mentioned, you need it. Although, I must say, I approve of the longer hair.”
I bristle, fingering my hair self-consciously. Then I realise I’m doing it and quickly fold my arms. Bastion notices my fidgeting and grins.
“Be a good girl and go back upstairs,” he says.
I take a step closer. “Tell me, Bastion, in the Cherienne world it seems women aren’t given an equal role to men, would that be correct?”
Bastion returns to searching through the papers left on my uncle’s desk. “Our women are highly-prized specimens of beauty and elegance who decorate our lives with the wonder of femininity and children.”
It sounds like a rote reply. I nod. “Are your women taught to be fighting fit and defend themselves?”
Bastion snorts in derision. “Reef’s sake, no! We have the soldiers for that.” He makes his way around the desk, turning his back to me as he feels along its lines, searching for hidden drawers.
I step nearer, close enough to breathe in his scent. Caramel and sea salt? He must sense me too, because he turns. I take one step closer, ‘til my breath heats his face. He smiles, misunderstanding my intent and reaches for me.
As his arms stretch to circle my body, I shove my fingernails into his soft, vulnerable armpits and dig hard to get purchase. He staggers back and I withdraw one arm, chopping my hand into his windpipe. He falls to all fours and I kick him onto his back, pinning him down with my knees on his groin, my fingers near his eyes.
“Tell me what you’re looking for!” I snap. He shakes his head, eyes infuriatingly amused. I dig a nail into the soft skin at the side of his eyeball and cover his mouth with my other hand as he yelps. “Tell me now or I’ll do much worse. Believe me, I’m capable of it!” I lean my knee deeper into his groin, and he squirms beneath me. But, just as I’m increasing the pressure, he executes a swift wrestling move and, before I know it, I’m pinned to the floor by his substantial weight. He straddles me, hands pushing down on my shoulders, a triumphant smile on his face.
“Get off me, you big walrus,” I snarl.
“Oh, my feelings are hurt,” he replies, clenching my sides with strong thighs. We eye each other with hatred, neither wanting to be the first to look away.
Suddenly, a pain knifes through my chest and I cry out.
Bastion tenses. “What?”
All I can do is moan. He lets me go cautiously, and I curl in on myself. I lie in foetal position, rocking as the pain rolls in waves across my abdomen.
Bastion kneels close, hands on his knees, observing. Then he hunkers onto his heels and runs a hand through his mess of hair.
“Blight?” he says.
I shake my head vehemently.
He raises his eyebrows. “I’ve never seen a case in a woman; only in men. How long have you had it?”
“I don’t have it. It’s a stomach ache. I ate too much kelp.” My voice sounds strangled.
Bastion smoothes down his clothes. “Your family don’t know, do they? You can’t have had the symptoms long, then, or they would have guessed. Your uncle would be first to spot it, having suffered from it for so many years. But it doesn’t spread from Mer to Mer, so how did you get it? Interesting. Perhaps there is some truth in the theory that it’s genetic.”
I struggle to my feet, still shaking my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cherienne, but you’ve got some explaining to do. What are you doing in my uncle’s study? I have a right to know. Out with it, weakling, or I’ll wake my uncle and then you’ll really have something to worry about.”
Bastion stands, his hands on his hips. “Wow,” he says. “You bounce back quickly.”
“Spit it out, Sprat-lover,” I hiss. The pain dissipates to thin pin-pricks.
He puts a finger to his lips. “Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, and a look of resignation crosses his face before the words flood out of him.
“I’m looking for a map of the exact location of the Spratonite stronghold. I don’t have much time. I need to find it in this room or... ” He sees my look of confusion and changes tack. “I have reason to believe they are holding Prastion’s mother there and possibly my brother. Prastion agrees with me. His father has no idea we’re pursuing this. I’ve tried to show him the evidence she’s still alive, that they took her instead of killing her outright. But he won’t believe me.”
I can tell he believes it, even if the story seems incredible.
“What proof could you possibly have?” I ask.
He stares at his feet. “Two of my brothers were taken at the same time, and one got away. Before he died, he told us about half of the party were taken alive, not killed like the others. They were put in nets and hauled away alive. Prastion’s mother was among them. I believe she’s still there, with the Spratonites. I don’t know why they would want us or what they might do to those they take, but all I want to do is get them back, and for that, I need a detailed map. Prastion and I have done our research, we’ve been looking everywhere, but the closest we’ve come is getting an invite to this house. Your uncle is well known to be the last to lead a patro
l to the stronghold, so here we are…”
“They were taken alive?” I can’t keep the hope out of my voice.
Bastion frowns. “Yes, and if I know my brother, alive and kicking.”
“But why in the ocean would they want us alive?”
“We don’t know. To be honest, we don’t care. If we can get a map to show us more or less where they are, then we’ve got a plan to cause some damage and hopefully find our family.”
Bastion’s face is pink with passion, his eyes bright with moisture and he swipes them with the back of his sleeve. I find myself wanting to reach out and smooth away all traces of his despair.
Before I can move, he grabs me by the shoulders. “Thala, I beg you, help us. Help us find a map.” Even after I’ve returned to bed, I can feel the imprint of his firm grip on my upper arms, his thumbs hot and hard against my muscles, his minted breath cool on my face, the intensity of his gaze. I replay the moment over and over in my head before sleep washes it away.
14
In the week that follows, Prastion and Bastion share more of their plan with me, but I know they’re keeping the important part under wraps. What they do say is that once they have the exact location of the stronghold, they’ll commandeer the well-paid human crew of Kastion’s boat to get them there.
“But then what will you do?” I ask, infuriated by their secrecy.
“It’s better if you don’t know, Thala,” says Prastion.
“Don’t speak to me like I’m a two-year-old,” I snap.
Bastion cuts in. “It’s better if you don’t know, then you can’t be implicated if something goes wrong.”
I’ve been finding it hard to meet Bastion’s gaze since our fight the other night. But when he isn’t looking, I can’t stop my eyes gliding over his broad chest and shoulders.
“Well, you need to get the map first, don’t you?” I say. I enjoy the fearful glance they throw each other and their sycophantic smiles.
Jaes pops his head around the door. “Hey, you guys, coming on patrol soon?”
“Sure thing, buddy,” says Bastion. “Meet you downstairs in five.”
Jaes throws him a salute and a grin. He idolises Bastion. I believe he thinks he’s Luke Skywalker.
Prastion whistles. “We need to keep our voices down. Now, where were we? You said you would look for it today, Thala? Can we help in any way?”
“No,” I reply curtly. “I’m on it.”
They’re both so grateful I’ve agreed to help, but the truth is it’s not that hard a task. I have a fair idea where Uncle keeps maps and documents. Plus, it makes a change from Merhistory and maths. Anna, Murdoch and my uncle are beside themselves with happiness that Prastion and I want to spend so much time together. They can already hear the splash of little hatching Merkids. Kastion is cautiously friendly, too. He’s a kind person. I wish I didn’t have to go behind his back.
Prastion says he needs the maps by Friday, the day before they’re due to leave. Kastion’s plan is to return to their pod home with news of our new friendship and then, dependent on my breeding prospects, I’m expected to visit within the year. I can’t say I’ve given much thought to the future, since Prastion’s plans have me wondering about the past.
Is it possible my parents are still alive? Kept under the sea all these years? Prastion is convinced his mum is a captive. He can’t believe she’s dead. But my parents have been gone so much longer. I fight my rising hope, not wanting to grasp what could be ripped out of my heart again. If they were held that long under the sea, it would mean they couldn’t return to human form again. They’d be sea-bound for life. But they’d be alive. Maybe there’s a chance? I have to find out.
I wave goodbye to all the male testosterone heading out to sea for patrol. They should be gone long enough for me to track down the map. But first I have to do some greasing.
I catch up on school work at the kitchen table. Anna looks pleasantly surprised.
“You’re not joining the men on patrol, Thala?” she asks.
“I’m way behind with all the visitors being here,” I mumble.
Afterwards, I help her dry the dishes, then tell her I’m off for a soak. She nods and smiles, happy to shoo me out of her kitchen.
The tunnels are cool and dry. I skip down the stairs and push open the heavy door. The water looks inviting but, instead of sliding in, I take the tiny pathway that leads around the pool, to the right. Here the rock is split in two and if you squeeze between the two halves, you come out in another small cave.
Perfectly dry, it’s the ideal place to store paper documents. A rectangular, metal box sits squat and ugly in the middle of the floor. I reach into my pocket for the key card I’ve hidden there since this morning. I approach the safe as if it were a bomb, on tiptoe. I fit the key card into the slot and hold my breath. A digital display asks for the password. I’ve watched Uncle open this safe several times. I used to play at following him quietly enough not to get caught—the perfect hunting game. If I’m right, the password won’t have changed. J-A-N-E-E-N, my aunt’s name. I turn a dial to the right and once to the left, push it in and pull the door open. It works!
Inside, I find a big pile of folders with titles like ‘Pod Agreements’ and ‘Lease’. I have a quick look through the first couple, but there’s nothing of interest. I open two plastic files and find a bunch of passports, searching through until I see my own image staring back from the little booklet. I’m several years younger, but the document’s still valid. I put it to one side.
At the bottom of the pile is a large A3 sleeve conveniently labelled ‘maps’. I find what I’m looking for in minutes. I suppose to Uncle it’s no secret: he’s even marked the map with the word ‘stronghold’ in his old-fashioned script. There’s more than one copy so Uncle won’t even realise it’s missing. I silently thank the universe for his fastidious nature. I put the folders back in the order I retrieved them, hesitating over one with Anna and Murdoch’s family name written in capital letters. I open it and read.
It isn’t until I hear footsteps on the stairs above that I realise how long I’ve been poring over the folder. Rattled, I bundle the papers into their folder and stuff it back in the safe, quickly locking it. I stash the map, card and my passport behind a rock, squeeze through the gap and dive into the pool as Murdoch pokes his head around the door.
“You okay down here, Thala? Anna sent me to check you’re all right. She thought you might be coming down with something, seeing as you actually wanted to do your school work.” Murdoch winks.
“I’m fine, thanks. Enjoying the water. Tell her I’m coming now.”
“Okey-dokey, then,” he says and stomps back up the carved out stairs.
Back in my room, I put the map inside a large plastic art folder in my wardrobe. It will be safe for now.
I take my tablet out of my bedside table drawer and tap on the photo of me at my fifth birthday party again. There’s Anna in the background clearing the mess. You can see half of Murdoch’s face as he turns to talk to someone. I never even noticed him in the shot before. The two of them have always been there. I’ve grown up with them looking over me all my life. They were always close to my parents and they care for my uncle. They are bound to the Tellurians in more ways than one. And now I know why.
15
I’m surprised at the change in Prastion over the last few days. It’s as if he’s come alive. The skinny, arrogant little boy that arrived a week ago is a ball of energy. Bastion eggs him on, plotting and planning in whispers. Now that I’ve given them the map, I’m ignored.
I watch Bastion leaning over it, his mess of blonde hair falling across his eyes. He flicks at it in irritation and points to the stronghold location.
“If we can get the humans to co-operate and if we can make it to this point, we have a good chance of succeeding,” he says. He raises bright blue eyes to meet mine.
“‘If’ is a chancy word,” I say, noting the location.
He frowns and I can’t
help noticing the way it emphasises his cheekbones. “We have money,” he says. “Humans are highly motivated by money, and Prastion here has lots of it.”
I shrug. As far as they’re concerned, I’m not involved. So why does he want to justify it to me unless he has doubts of his own?
“That’s all very well, but what will you do when you get out there, presuming you have the right place? You are two against an entire population of Sprats who have so far managed to wipe out much of your pod and almost my entire family. What can you two do that no other Mer has managed to do in a thousand years?”
The two boys exchange a glance.
“We have a plan,” says Prastion. How is he managing to keep all this a secret from his father?
There’s a knock at the door. The boys snatch the map and throw it in my wardrobe, shutting the door with a bang. They hurl themselves on my bed and grab one of my magazines to read. Bastion looks comical browsing through the Women’s Day. Prastion’s father opens the door and peers in. Anna is hovering behind him.
“How’s everybody getting along in here?” he says, his eyes sparkling.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour, but Uncle says you can go for an ocean swim if you want to,” says Anna.
I’ve been avoiding her the last few days. It’s hard not to stare. What I now know about the Aegis family hangs over me like a storm cloud. Each time I pass Murdoch hammering away at a stray nail or fiddling with a piece of machinery, I get confused. My love for them tangles with the mystery of it all.
“Our last dinner at the Conclave, boys,” says Kastion. “Only one more day, then we’ll have to leave our new friends. But I must say I’m looking forward to heading home. And we’ll see you again next year, Thala, won’t we?”
I nod. Our elders have been discussing the details, saving us from the business side of the transaction. Neither Prastion nor I have paid much attention to the notion that one day we might be partners in more than our shared secret.